


Saxons + Misc [SSS]

by xHonestSecretsx



Series: Sy's Sinful Saturdays [Vikings] [7]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-06 16:23:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16836232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xHonestSecretsx/pseuds/xHonestSecretsx





	1. Chapter 1

The men that came were gorgeous. You had never seen a sexier alpha than the one with a braided ponytail. Naturally a Christian woman, you struggled and fought against the desire streaming down your skirts– knowing both King Alfred and the Prince Ubbe could smell the juices that began to flow down your legs.

Fast forward to now, clenching the silken sheets of your bed and gasping for the pressure soaring through your walls to stop. It wasn’t his rut. It wasn’t going to be your heat for months upon months and yet your alpha was on a mission to make his seed take. He wouldn’t say why–

But you knew.

His hands cringe across your hips, nails digging deeply against your hips with every heated thrust deeper and deeper. Your hair bounces with every thrust filling your aching walls.

“It’s time for a son.”

“Yes, my King.”


	2. Alfred|| His Rut

“I can’t keep up.” You say as Aethelred bends you over the nearest couch. It had been a longer week of his rut-- made longer still by the fact that he wasn’t done with you. At least he wasn’t blindly, wordlessly fucking you in his rut anymore. He sets an apologetic kiss to your back.

“You're doing so good, omega girl.” He spoke thickly, hands at the beginning of your waist. His breath was more like a rattling growl, worn by the constant snarling that slipped of his lips all week.

“Please. Please please.” You gasp, grasping the back of your leg. His spent seed slips from your inner thighs, coating your shaking legs down. Aethelred groans as your ring of muscles tighten around him, milking him for his seed despite your words.  
image

“You were made for this.” He gasps, shaking his dark bangs of the sweat. “One more.”


	3. Alfred || Unprepared

“Give it to me...”

Northish women had certain... stories about them.

They were violent succubi prowling the Earth for their next victim. Until the day where the heathens came to stay in the safety of his home, he didn’t believe that. Now, however, he did. He believed it because namely one was milking him for all that he had to offer while he did all he could to suppress it.

“Give it to me!” Her hips jerked erratically up and down his cock, walls like spasming vices milking the sacred seed right out of him. Alfred’s hands snap to her hips, barking out sharply.

“God!” He hisses, losing his sweet seed within her. She growls confidently into his ear while he coats her heathen walls, shyly bucking out the rest of his excitement.

“More.” She demands, slapping his cheek gruffly. Alfred whimpers below her, seat slickening his pale body as she bites at his rosy cheeks and tweaks his nipples. Enough to make him shout to the heavens.

All Heathens were Succubi.


	4. Firsts || Aethelred

First kisses felt like they should have been easy. His father told him all he needed to know about them. The right places to touch, how to make her squirm. He knew all of those things. His lips devoured your wet kisses, dragging you up from standing to sitting upon his father’s table.

“Like this?” He says-- his father grunts behind him.

“Between her legs, boy.” Aethelwulf says gruffly.

He glances down to her legs, naked with her dress strewn across the room where he had begun to undress you. Your legs voluntarily spread open for him, pulling apart. You were a glorified whore-- the one from the expensive whore house. Father was paying a pretty penny for this, he’d probably flagellate himself later. He stutters forward shyly, only eased by your gentle words.

“My prince, it’s like this.” You guide his hips between your legs. His hot core hits yours-- and you grind over his swollen dick behind the fabric of his trousers. He pulls his cock from his pants, guiding himself over your smooth sex.

“Push in.” Aethelwulf orders and slowly he obeys-- like a good Christian boy. His dick disappears slowly within your moist walls with a glorious sigh slipping from your lips. Or perhaps it was his, savouring the taste of his first woman. Aethelwulf takes a drink of his drink.

“Take it slow.”


	5. Collared || Aethelred

It’s not like he didn’t always know. He knew-- but he hated it. He should have been the one and only man on your mind. But when he walked in that day, it was another man’s name off your lips. Alfred! You intoned.

His fist tightened around his lead, dragging you back onto his dick with the dog collar snug around your throat. “Say it again.” Aethelred hisses.

Your legs were more wobbly than jello, especially in the heels that help keep you stable. A sharp sob. “Aethelred!” You gasp. “I’m sorry, I didn’t--” You’re suddenly cut off as Aethelred drags you harshly back. His dick fills your quivering walls full, momentarily shocking the words out of your chest.

He wouldn’t stop until his puppy learned the right name-- time and time again.


	6. Halfdan || Present

Halfdan is a simple man.

He enjoys a life from the sidelines– enjoying how the Ragnarssons and his brother struggle for glory. So sometimes, he also likes to sit back and enjoy your hips in the air, swaying for him in wait. It was like a present. For once, something was for him and not Harald.

“Are you ready?” He finds himself asking, a gentle swat against her ass to garner your attention fully upon him. He grips his cock at the base, leaning forward with the head of his cock tickling your hole.

“Yeah,” You mumur, pushing your hips back upon him. His tip glides in smoothly and you look back to his dark eyes, surrounded by a grey mass of tattoos. His blonde hair tickles his lips. “I always am.”


	7. Ragnar + Ivar || Viking

"Tell him how he feels.” The King had said.

Hours ago you were pitching a fit about carrying the cripple. Now, you were doing nothing but sobbing under the weight of his thrusts. Ivar was laughing maniacally above you, a soft rumbling noise of pleasure escaping his lips with every thrust.

“GO-ood, he feels good!” You sob for your life. Ragnar’s boot was harsh on your back, keeping you down among the dewy blades of grass. Ivar had gotten it up-- and this time, he told his father, he meant to carry out Viking things. To prove he was something more than poor Ivar. Ragnar dug his fist into your hair, dragging your face up with tingly satisfaction when you sob out a noise for Ivar. Ivar barks out a moan when you clench down on him tight. Likely in fear-- but it as all the same for him. It was good.

“I am not just a cripple now, am I?” Ivar leans down, his hand steadying him through a barrage of thrusts that sends his princely seed careening through your walls. You overflow with him.

“No my prince, no. You’re a Viking!”

You were damn right he was.


	8. Lagertha + Aslaug + Ubbe || Failure

Lagertha had her plans on how to go about her revenge against Aslaug. She was a witty woman. But… sometimes, her plans didn’t work. That was how she ended up Aslaug’s lap-bitch.

“Roll your hips.”

Sometimes her plans had repercussions– like smearing her hips over Aslaug’s prized boots with her hands bound in front of her. There were no panties to be seen. Only dark stockings attached to her lacy black garter above her hips. These were sad conditions for the Queen she considered herself to be.

“How you’ll hate it if he takes you dry, Lagertha.” Aslaug’s deep voice trills softly, grinding a wet filth that was sopping already. Spitefully and bitterly Lagertha rolls her hips down on the boot, rolling her hips in small circles. In front of her, her husband’s son ground his hand against his shaft. His fist was jerking his shaft without complaint.

“Come Ubbe.”


	9. Ragnarssons || Prove Yourself

Aella’s daughter was a prize. A treat in herself-- just waiting for her clothes to be ripped from her body. The fool hid her away in the highest of his towers for shameful reasons. He spent his years taking that chip of bread, pretending as if he hadn’t sinned either by sleeping with a nymph.

But what sin suppressed was manifested in this eager, horny girl. Her body was wonderfully splayed open on the half couch, held up by Hvitserk and Bjorn whose dicks brushed one another pushing into the same hole. Ivar was the first to claim her throat, loosening his tunic and pushing himself deep. Her lips wrapped around him like nothing more than a whore, suckling the tip and shaft with a tight suction.

“Have you gone soft, Ubbe? Sigurd?” He teases, forearms steadying himself carefully. His legs were just underneath hers, draping off the side of the bed.

“I am not soft!” Ubbe growls, somewhere at the other edge of the room. He pushes Sigurd forward, following after and loosening his pants.

“So prove it.”


	10. Harald || Unneeded

It was nice to have a special girl.

Maybe not at home where his brother and he lived boringly, but hey, a math teacher had his ways about him. He could fine women at bars-- but nothing like the pretty university students that came in.

He spots her by the desk closest to his computer. She catches his deep blue eyes settling upon him as her legs spread, slowly at first. The marker in his hand fumbles when he catches sight of her smooth pussy without a lick of cloth in sight. He dips down to grab his marker, his forehead creasing.

“(Y/N)!” He nearly shouts, and smoothly you cover yourself.

“Yes, Mr. Hárfagri?” You say as he swings back up, clearing his throat of the achingly tight tie-- at least it could release the pressure that he felt building up in his pants in the middle of class.

He regains the swing to his voice. “I’d like to see you after class.” He grunts, gazing around. “Where was I?”

Parabolas, someone shouts. It’s really too cute when he looses focus.


	11. Ragnar + Ivar || Daddie Knows

Ragnar had always been away on business trips. He was fortunate enough to be able to provide for his family– but the cost had been high. Now that half his company was handed down to Bjorn, Ragnar only had to manage the other half until his savvy son Ivar came to age. Life had slowed down enough for Ragnar to finally notice.

“Raise your eyes Ivar.” He reassures his son from across this glamorous hotel room where Aslaug had no idea what Ragnar was doing with her little angel. His eyes had been on the floor at many points, shy to look and take in the sight with his “secretary”’s eyes watching his chest rise and drop in response to his father’s big dick stretching her pussy wide.

Ivar. She calls his name, a playful sing song. His father’s large hands encompass her jiggling breasts. “Take a look Ivar. Daddie knows best.”

He braces himself to look up from his self deemed pitiful erection, nodding. Daddie did know best.


	12. Just a Job

This wasn’t his dream job. It was something meant to pass the time and garner the money he needed for his dreams. Sure, grandfather paid for mostly anything-- but he had something to prove to his father Aethelwulf. So, acting like the shy boy getting his dick sucked by random chicks wasn’t that bad. This blonde was between his legs with a mouth stuffed full of his usually large dick, or so he was told. Her nails sent chills up his back with gentle strokes.

“Alfred!” He hears from the side of him. A cheesy smile escapes his lips-- caught like a dog with a treat. His hands hold him up as he glances to the side, a shy smile pulling at his lips. Mommie’s spoiled boy-- caught.

“Hi mom.”


	13. OC: Sverri [Breeding]

Sverri is shy.

He always has been a man to hide his kinks as vanilla and sugary soft he is. Perhaps, sometimes he enjoys binding your wrists behind your back and eating your pussy out until he is sure you can take no more. Perhaps other times, he lets you do the very same. He is your doll. The one that you use for whatever nasty kink is on your tongue. You… are his life, his everything. He would die for you if you so asked.

The issue was not so much he asking for treatment. He asked for nothing but cuddles after you were through using him. But as of late something had been bothering him. It itches him how other men look at you. He needs something-- something to show them that you were his. Sure, he made the claim. There were always those lurking that cared not for his words, but actions.

“S-Sverri!” You choke out. “What has gotten into you?”

Sure-- it wasn’t Sverri like to pin you down against the bed. A pillow blocks your head from slamming into the headboard of his bed. His thrusts were deep, purposeful while keeping you in the perfect position. He aims to do what he needs to to keep you.

“Not- Nothing! Shit!” He curses, his black hair catching on his beard with harsh, pleasured thrusts taking ahold of him once more. His orgasm takes him over in a wave, filling you with his seed. Not just once-- but time after time, he had filled you. He wasn’t going to take any chances! Ivar the Boneless was lurking-- and he had to see it that he didn’t stay.


End file.
